Scriam despre cartea asta cu ceva timp in urma, cand inca nu aparuse la noi si ziceam ca mi-ar placea sa o citesc. Ei bine, am avut ocazia aici pt ca am gasit-o la biblioteca facultatii. O carte zguduitoare. Nu pot sa spun ca o recomand ca lectura pentru ca e genul de lectura pe care o faci doar daca vrei un dus rece al realitatii. Nu e o lectura "de placere". E o lectura pentru cei interesati de ceea ce se intampla in jurul lor, de nedreptatile nevazute care exista in lume, de modul in care cei care au puterea reusesc sa intoarca totul dupa bunul plac. E o carte despre dramele nebanuite ale unor oameni ca si noi, care nu au avut decat ghinionul de a trai in timpul celui de-al doilea razboi Ruso-Cecen. Absolut tulburatoare.
Ceea ce m-a socat dupa ce am citit-o au fost articolele gasite pe internet referitoare la Anna Politovskaya, o femeie absolut extraordinara care a platit cu viata munca ei de dezvaluire a nedreptatilor comise de regimul lui Putin. Citez doar o parte dintr-un articol al ei, care m-a dus cu gandul la Garcia Marquez si a lui "Cronica a unei morti anuntate". Anna Politovskaya si-a presimtit moartea:
"I am a pariah.
That is the result of my journalism throughout the years of the Second Chechen War, and of publishing books abroad about life in Russia and the Chechen War. In Moscow, I am not invited to press conferences or gatherings that Kremlin officials might attend, in case the organizers are suspected of harboring sympathies toward me. Despite this, all the top officials talk to me, at my request, when I am writing articles or conducting investigations -- but only in secret, where they can't be observed, in the open air, in squares, in secret houses that we approach by different routes, like spies.
You don't get used to this, but you learn to live with it.
It is the way I have had to work throughout the Second War in Chechnya. First I was hiding from the Russian federal troops, but always able to make contact clandestinely with individuals through trusted intermediaries, so that my informants would not be denounced to the top generals. When President Vladimir Putin's plan of Chechenization succeeded (setting "good" Chechens loyal to the Kremlin to kill "bad" Chechens who opposed it), the same subterfuge extended to talking to "good" Chechen officials, many of whom, before they were "good" officials, had sheltered me in their homes in the most trying months of the war. Now we can meet only in secret because I am an incorrigible enemy, not amenable to re-education.
I loathe the Kremlin's line, elaborated by Surkov, dividing people into those who are "on our side," "not on our side," or even "on the other side." If a journalist is "on our side," he or she will get awards, respect, perhaps be invited to become a deputy in the Duma.
If a journalist is "not on our side," however, he or she will be deemed a supporter of the European democracies, of European values, and automatically become a pariah. That is the fate of all who oppose our "sovereign democracy," our "traditional Russian democracy." (What on Earth that is supposed to be, nobody knows; but they swear allegiance to it nevertheless: "We are for sovereign democracy!") I am not really a political animal. I have never joined any party and would consider it a mistake for a journalist, in Russia at least, to do so. I have never felt the urge to stand for the Duma, although there were years when I was invited to.
So what is the crime that has earned me this label of not being "one of us"? I have merely reported what I have witnessed, no more than that. I have written and, less frequently, I have spoken. I am even reluctant to comment, because it reminds me too much of the imposed opinions of my Soviet childhood and youth. It seems to me that our readers are capable of interpreting what they read for themselves. That is why my principal genre is reportage, sometimes, admittedly, with my own interjections. I am not an investigating magistrate but somebody who describes the life around us for those who cannot see it for themselves, because what is shown on television and written about in the overwhelming majority of newspapers is emasculated and doused with ideology. People know very little about life in other parts of their own country, and sometimes even in their own region.
The Kremlin responds by trying to block my access to information, its ideologists supposing that this is the best way to make my writing ineffectual. It is impossible, however, to stop someone fanatically dedicated to this profession of reporting the world around us. My life can be difficult; more often, humiliating. I am not, after all, that young at 47 to keep encountering rejection and having my own pariah status rubbed in my face. But I can live with it.
I will not go into the other joys of the path I have chosen, the poisoning, the arrests, the threats in letters and over the Internet, the telephoned death threats, the weekly summons to the prosecutor general's office to sign statements about practically every article I write (the first question being, "How and where did you obtain this information?"). Of course I don't like the constant derisive articles about me that appear in other newspapers and on Internet sites presenting me as the madwoman of Moscow. I find it disgusting to live this way. I would like a bit more understanding."
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